


Barefoot In The Rain

by panicattackkisses



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kissing in the Rain, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Stiles looking after Lydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3648447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panicattackkisses/pseuds/panicattackkisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia is missing after having a bad banshee ''episode''. Stiles finds her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barefoot In The Rain

_I don’t know why it took me so long to write this. I don’t know why this is one of my longest fics yet. I don’t know if it’s any good. I don’t know if it makes sense. I’m really sleepy. Requested by anon from the prompt list. Number 21, "We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?"  
~~Genuinely concerned that I have suddenly lost all ability to write. Anything.~~_

The air inside the jeep was stifling and the insistent summer heat bore down on the quiet pair from outside. Stiles wiped his brow before resting his hand back on the wheel, his soft, brown eyes constantly flicking to his rear view window.

What he saw in it, mesmerized him. It held his attention and concern more than the long, empty road did - a fact that didn’t seem to be an issue at that point in time. Trees surrounded the road on either side and they stood tall and still, no cool breeze rustling their leaves. It smelt like rain, Stiles thought, but the blue skies told him differently.   
He tore his attention from the road once more, looking in the mirror to see the seats behind him.

* * *

 

Lydia was nothing more than a ball of strawberry blonde curls in the back of the jeep. Her bare feet were streaked with dirt and tucked up underneath her. Her long legs that peeked out from her skirt had a hint of a summer tan and were laced with small cuts and bruises. Stiles frowned at their presence.

However, that’s all that Stiles could see of her. Lydia’s upper body was hidden in a too big jumper that had once belonged to the boy driving. It was a thin, knitted sweater that was overstretched and almost sporting holes in it’s sleeves. But, Lydia, the queen of fashion and style in Beacon Hills, had found it in his cupboard one winter and had never parted with it since. It was a comfort for her, a reminder of Stiles - the boy who was always there for her, the friend who always saved her.

Like now.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The pack had been in Allison’s back yard, sitting around a barbeque - lapping up the warmth of the summer sun, the intoxicating smell of hotdogs and corn on the cob. Laughter had rung throughout the group, parents and friends chatted easily and all the dark memories from the past were momentarily forgotten about. It was simple, it was normal but still, Stiles was uneasy. Something was tugging at him from within.

When Isaac arrived without Lydia, Stiles was out of his seat and approaching his friend before Allison could register the other girls absence.  
Stiles had asked the beta in a low voice, where Lydia was and the boy had responded with a confused expression.   
“I went to pick her up, but her Mom said she had left hours ago...’’ Isaac’s eyes grew worried and soon, the whole pack were concerned about Lydia’s whereabouts, “Does that mean she’s not here?’’

Allison was quiet but she shook her head ‘no’, her lips drawn into a tight line as Scott drew soothing circles into her back. Stiles was already heading through the open patio doors and into the cool air of the kitchen. Just as he pressed ‘dial’ next to Lydia’s name, a bone shattering scream - no wail - came from the distance.   
Stiles had dropped his cell with a clatter, the object bouncing off of the tiled floor as the broken screen went unnoticed. He had raced back outside to be met with Scott’s wide eyes. His friend clutched him by the shoulders, speaking to him in a rush.   
It was as if he was underwater, Stiles heard nothing but the painful scream that still seemed to be ricocheting around his head, his body - god, her voice was in his goddamn chest - he was ready to burst.  

Clarity rushed back to him with sudden speed, his vision became sharper and sound returned to his ears. “Stiles!’’ Scott grabbed at him, shaking his friend slightly, “Get in the jeep”.

Isaac was already sitting in the back next to Allison and when Scott jumped into the passenger seat, Stiles was rolling out of the driveway. He was in fourth gear by the time he had exited Allison’s street. His mouth was drier than cotton when he asked Scott to direct him - his only way to Lydia being his friend’s supernatural senses. His heart raced in his chest and for a second, he was afraid his ribcage couldn’t contain it. Stiles was dizzy and the tugging from inside him became impatient and persistent.  
When they reached the clearing that led to the woods, Stiles realized he had stopped asking for directions long ago.

The overgrown grass crunched underneath his feet as he walked towards the edge of the woodland. The heat swum around the friends and it hung in the air like a threat now. Stiles stared into the dense forest, not knowing which direction to look. But still, something in his chest pulled him forward, and he took a cautious step into the trees. The light dimmed and the air cooled underneath the canopy of branches but an uneasy sensation prickled at the back of Stiles’ neck. Only his friends breathing could be heard around him.

He took another step into the forest, the old, dead leaves from winter crackling under his shoes. Stiles twitched at each sound, his body was a livewire and he felt fit to explode with each passing second that he didn’t have Lydia within his sights.  
Isaac was close behind him, watching carefully for any signs of danger whilst Scott kept a close eye on a worried Allison. With no weapons to share out, and only two wolves to defend them from possible dangers, the tension in the air was as thick as the suffocating heat.

Stiles inhaled sharply, the smell of pinecones invading his senses as he prepared to call out Lydia’s name. Before he could, Stiles practically sensed a burst of movement from behind him and he spun around, his body tensed for the possibility of an enemy.

Instead, he dropped his hands to his sides where the swung loosely, his fists uncurling as he stared at the shape moving towards him.  
She was a frantic flurry of floral prints and wild curls that matched the shade of the fallen leaves under his feet. Lydia’s long legs sprinted and propelled her body through the air and she panted heavily, her skin glistening under the sun. When she was ten feet away from him, Stiles stepped forward and could see her bare feet that were streaked with blood and dirt.

When she was five feet away, the boy seen tear tracks that shone across her cheeks. Her eyes were wide and full of fear.

Lydia was less than a foot away from her shell shocked friends when Stiles raised his arms in anticipation.

Stiles caught Lydia with ease as she threw her tiny body into his waiting arms, her hands reaching into the hair that curled at the nape of his neck. The boy stumbled slightly at the force of her knocking into him but he held them steady. She was a mess of emotions and she burrowed her head into the crook of the boy’s neck as his strong arms lifted her feet off of the harsh forest floor. Stiles held her there, against him as she panted heavily into his skin and Allison breathed a sigh of relief behind them.

She smelled like sun cream and fruit sundaes, Stiles thought. Her breath was uneven and hot against his neck and his eyes fluttered closed in relief. Lydia was okay. Her breathing was frantic, her skin was clammy and she was bleeding from wounds Stiles still needed to inspect, but, she was alive.

Stiles slowly lowered himself and Lydia to the ground and she whimpered at the loss of contact between them - but as she met Stiles’ soft, concerned eyes, she allowed him to run his hands over her feet and legs in gentle, cautious sweeps.  
After finding only small cuts and scrapes, Stiles watched as Scott helped the girl back to her feet, her jumper hanging too long over her arms as she wrapped them around Allison with fierce love.

Lydia had only nodded when her three friends had asked her if she was okay. She had nodded again when Stiles had asked her if it was a bad vision.   
Despite this, Scott was determined to check out the area in case Lydia had had a premonition with possible dangers. Isaac tailed him without question, and when Allison had watched Lydia find her way back into comfort of Stiles’ arms, she told the boy to take her friend home. With a smile, she headed off with the boys and into the woods with no other words.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stiles had been driving for twenty minutes and Lydia was yet to speak. Her head was burrowed underneath her wild mane of curls and Stiles’ jumper shielded her face from view. Her tiny frame was tucked up into the smallest shape she could make herself and Stiles hated the fact that she had chosen to sit in the back seat. She seemed a million miles away from him.  
He wished she had sat beside him, so he could hold her hand, soothe the soft skin on her thigh.

Instead, Stiles had watched as she let go of his hand when they had approached the jeep, her head bowed as she clambered into the back seat.   
With a disappointed sigh, Stiles had gently closed the door behind her and jumped into the front.

It was a crack of thunder that finally pulled Lydia from her drifting state. She was half way between a world of fitful sleep and a soft, hazy consciousness.   
Stiles scowled, his eyes straining upward to the skies that were quickly turning to navy and grey streaks. Lightning flashed in the distance, travelling towards their one blue skies. The air was still too warm, too uncomfortable and it crackled with electricity and tension. When Stiles looked in his mirror again, his eyes found Lydia's own green pair.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise at seeing her, her face regaining some of the colour it once had. Words of concern played on his lips but before Stiles had the chance to ask her if she was okay, a ridiculously loud roll of thunder rumbled above them.   
Within seconds, rain fell from the heavens and battered down mercilessly on the roof of the jeep. It was sudden and unexpected, but a relief from the week long heat wave that had encased Beacon Hills.

"Stiles, pull over".

Stiles almost slammed on the breaks at the sound of Lydia’s voice. He had yet to hear her speak, but as usual with her visions, he left her alone, allowing her time to calm down and regain her senses. Her powerful screams usually left Lydia tired and weak - and running in such heat hadn’t helped her.   
Yet, as she heard the rain falling, she became more awake, more aware of her surroundings. Her clammy skin stuck uncomfortably to the leather seats of the jeep. Her skirt was streaked with dirt and she frowned when she saw that it had torn slightly at the hem.   
Sitting up, she winced at her aching muscles and as reality settled around her, Lydia soon realised her bare feet were burning, the scratches she had collected during her small walk stung harshly. Her hair was matted and tangled and the girl winced as she tried to run her fingers through it. Giving up, she settled her forehead against the cool glass of the window, taking in the fastly falling rain and the rumbling thunder in the distance.

She sighed softly as the cold glass met the warmth of her overheated skin. Her lips parted as her whole body relaxed and uncoiled from it’s uncomfortable position. Lydia exhaled once more, her eyes fluttering closed and she was so sure that she could almost taste the rain on her tongue. The scent of water on tarmac invaded her senses and the constant patter of water on the jeep’s roof soothed her. She needed to get out. She needed to feel it on her skin. She needed to wake up.  
When she told Stiles to pull over, her voice was hoarse and dry - but determined as ever.

“Lydia, what? What -’’ Stiles’ furrowed his brow, slowing the car down slightly so he could quickly glance behind him to eye the girl curiously. “It’s pouring down outside, Lydia, you’ll get soaked’’.

“I know’’, Lydia rolled her eyes at his obvious statement but when the jeep still rolled slowly on the road, she added, “Stiles, please - just for a minute’’.

Utterly perplexed, Stiles huffed, looking out the windscreen at the still blinding sun hidden behind purple clouds. The rain was almost torrential now and it stormed down in buckets. Lydia had already unbuckled her seatbelt, clinging to the back of the boy’s chair as she murmured quietly in his ear - her warm breath sending goosebumps scattering across his skin.

“Please?’’ She asked again.

Swallowing heavily at the sensation of her lips so close to him, Stiles merely nodded and pulled over to the side of the road. He killed the engine and the pair sat quietly for a minute, letting the deafening noise of rain hitting metal lull them into a trance.   
The summer sun still gleamed in the sky, shining down on the windscreen and sending miniature rainbows dancing across the car interiors. Stiles turned slightly, looking to the girl behind him. He smiled when he was greeted with her wide eyes and sun kissed skin that was currently decorated with stripes of colour. She looked more alive than the boy had seen her before - her hazel eyes were framed with thick, dark eyelashes and she looked alert, focused - in the moment and not trapped in some dark vision.

He shifted in his seat, until he was facing her, his head close to her own as she leant against the back of his headrest. Stiles watched her eyes flutter closed before opening again, her long lashes sending shadows across her cheekbones. Small specks of dirt mingled between the freckles that had appeared on the bridge of her nose and Stiles longed to be close enough to her to count them. A small smile played on his lips and seconds must have passed before he realised Lydia was watching him too. Their eyes met and the boy felt his neck and cheeks flush with heat and embarrassment.

“Hi’’, his voice was quiet and throaty but Lydia still heard him over the pounding rain. She smiled in return, murmuring ‘hi’ back before she brought one hand up to soothe the stray hair that stuck out from the top of his head.

“You okay?’’ he mumbled, his eyes closing at the sensation of her hands on his scalp. He almost purred. Lydia nodded slowly, her fingers still working his hair as she considered if she truly was okay. She barely remembered leaving her home, never mind walking the three miles to the woods in her bare feet.   
The visions had been dark and grisly but nothing had come of them - no bodies were found as she wandered around the forest, lost and unaware of her surroundings. She remembered coming to, her mind reeling from the images that flashed across her mind. Her body was instantly tired, her throat burning from the scream she didn’t remember releasing.   
She was only aware of aches and pains - and the persistent tugging in her chest that sent her sprinting across the forest floor and into Stiles’ arms.

She sighed heavily and Lydia was aware of Stiles watching her with careful, concerned eyes. The banshee hated feeling delicate and Stiles was usually the one who avoided making her feel that way. He didn’t paw at her or constantly bombard her with questions. But he was always near, ready to hold her if she decided she wanted to be held, he was there when she wanted to talk to someone. He was always there, quietly making sure she was okay. Stiles knew that Lydia was strong and Lydia appreciated that. Stiles also knew that Lydia dealt with some things in strange and peculiar ways - like the time she camped out with him in his empty bathtub when they discovered Peter had returned to town - not much fazed him now.  
But when the strawberry blonde reached for the door handle and skipped out into the pouring rain - Stiles was rather surprised.

“What the hell?  _Lydia_ -’’ Stiles words of protest were cut off as she shut the door behind her, walking away from the jeep with her face tilted to the sky. The boy wrestled with his seatbelt, wrenching it away from his body and throwing his own door open.   
Rain hit his body and it hit him hard. Water poured from the skies with a vengeance, as if making up for the solid eight days of sunshine. The sun gleamed from somewhere above, hiding behind the dark clouds and making the air around him hazy and leaving the roads sparkling.   
Through the glare, he watched as Lydia made her way into the middle of the empty road - the tall trees on either side towering over her.

Lydia’s clothes were drenched as soon as she made it five steps from the jeep. The already oversized jumper of Stiles soon became weighed down with water, the hem almost covering her skirt and the thin wool sticking to the bare skin underneath. The road was rough under her feet but the warm rain water that pooled there soothed her cuts and washed away the dirt and blood. She felt cleaner and fresher - and the dark, dead weight that rested on her shoulders and within the depths of her throat dissolved.   
She smiled as the rain made tracks down her cheeks, running over her full lips and plastering her curls to her neck. Holding her arms out to her sides, she sighed and then exhaled once more - loudly this time and into the sky. Lydia inhaled the scent of pinetrees and rain; and something else that was uniquely summer.

Stiles watched as the rain cascaded over him, turning his chestnut hair to black. His shirt clung to him and stretched heavily from his tall frame as he jammed his hands into his pockets, taking in the scene before him.   
Lydia stood only a few feet away, her hands completely hidden by his ridiculously large sweater as she reached out to the trees. Her chin was tilted upwards, her full lips slightly parted and her eyes closed to the navy skies.  
The air was still warm and stuffy, the rain holding more heat than it should as it fell down on them. Stiles’ throat was dry and his mouth felt like cotton; he licked his lips, tasting the rain and the outdoors. His heart thumped from beneath his cotton t-shirt - which he was sure was now see-through.   
He stepped towards the girl with smile tugging at his lips and he watched her sigh loudly, a sound that was barely heard over the roar of the rain.

When he reached her, Stiles didn’t need to speak or touch the girl. She knew he was there, Lydia felt him - felt the air around her change and become electric; which she knew had nothing to do with the passing storm.  
Opening her eyes, she slowly let her arms fall to her sides. The girl turned to the boy and smiled freely, her banshee episode truly behind her now as she gazed up into his eyes. They were soft as always, and they held a special kind of warmth that she only found when meeting Stiles’ stare.

"We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?" Stiles words were missing the familiar sarcastic tone as he looked down at his friend, his head tilted and a smile on his lips. His expression was soft and gentle, his eyes full of curiosity and awe for the girl.  
Lydia simply returned her own smile and nodded - as if no explanation were needed. Stiles accepted this as if it were normal and continued to watch Lydia as she dipped her toes in the warm puddles of water and then raise her face to the sky once more.

Freckles sprinkled over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and Stiles watched as the raindrops landed on them before trailing down her cheek, along her jaw and down her neck. He stood before her, his footsteps concealed by the rolling thunder as he gazed down at her closed eyes. Her lashes sparkled with wetness and for a second, Stiles wondered if she was crying underneath the rain clouds.  
When she opened them once more, Lydia didn’t seem surprised to find Stiles standing so close. Actually, she reached out for him, her fingers just skimming the fabric of his soaked shirt. With movements that Stiles hardly felt, the girl tugged him towards her smaller frame until their chests were touching and she could feel his warm breath graze her lips.

“Are you okay?’’ Stiles almost had to yell the question to Lydia, despite being so close. The rain pounded down onto the road around them, the sound dulling their hearing until everything sounded like a constant roar.  
Lydia nodded once more, just like she had in the jeep only minutes ago. However, this time, her eyes met his own and she held his gaze with wide, bright eyes. Lydia’s tiny hands fisted the material of Stiles’ shirt and with impatience, she pulled him even closer, not satisfied until the boy knowingly bent his head down to her level.   
The girl stood on her toes on the rough tarmac, ignoring how her still fresh cuts shouted in protest.

Stiles tasted like fresh rain, mint and summer. The smell of pine surrounded them and Lydia breathed in the familiar cologne that the boy wore - the one that clung to her sheets at home and enveloped her every time she pulled on that jumper, the scent that she associated with safety and the one that she was almost damn sure she could smell in the forest; pulling her to him. She pressed her lips to his and he kissed her back just as desperately, his hands seeking out her bare skin underneath her jumper.   
When the boy asked her for a third time if she was okay. Lydia suppressed the urge to roll her eyes as she nodded once more, her lips still brushing against his own.  
This time, Stiles believed her. 


End file.
